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don't flop - lunar c and matter vs eddie p and frisko lyrics

[round 1: eddie p and frisko]
alright, yo matter, homie, you look like a crackhead moby
and lunar’s left earlobe is falling apart slowly
and you need to tell your mother not to phone me
cause i swear, last time, that’s some dark sh-t she told me
his mum’s left nip looks like a cleft lip
and his cider-swigging dad looks like rab c nesbitt’s been
dragged through a cesspit
and force-fed infected nesquik until his head went septic
your mum can keep getting her bud on tick
keep getting in more debt, but eventually i’ll bend her over
and f-ck her up t’bum with t’courgette
and i don’t know who you think you’re murking
i’ll praise your mum’s p-ssy open with a gherkin
and push it in ‘til it’s really f-ckin’ hurting
stand back, chuck gl-ss and dirt in
and i’ll come over and squirt a bit of turps in
and on the subject of your mum, will you take control?
i’m not surprised she’s scr-ping dole
she gave me bucks for a bacon roll and got left with t’gaping hole
[?]
matter, you’ve got weak genetics
everyone in your family is either going bald, going blind, or a straight-up diabetic
that have lost their lower limbs and walk around on prosthetics
either eat fruit, eat veg, hit t’gym, or get healthier
cause right about now brother, he’s looking like tom hanks
in the final scenes of the streets of philadelphia
you look like something out of trainspotting that’s gone rotten
and then sucked the fart out of the bottom of dot cotton
yo matter, my styles are doing considerably sharper, mate
and i’m finding your monotone style really hard to rate
it’s making me wanna drag your face down through a lava lake
and laugh when your face starts melting apart at an alarming rate
and lunar, it deserves a mention
you’ve got good lyrics, flows and projection
but you’ve got a bit of a lithp, innit
and that’s like your mum’s f-nny, crithp, innit
and then i cheese-grated her flaps, served her over baps
and eat ‘em and relax, you’re gettin’ beaten and slapped ‘bout

[round 1: lunar c and matter]
alright yo, yo, yo
gimme the drop to the grimy b-ss
big up to the ravers inside the place
hold on, what the f-ck is this, 1998?!
cause d’n’b hype been dead for years
so make noise for what comes next
right now, we’re ending this drum and b-ss f-ggot’s dreams…
dubstep!
you got a big ol’ chin and a bulbous nose that looks like a limp d-ck
with that hair colour and complexion you look like a lit spliff
why the f-ck do gingers smell like p-ss and biscuits?!
and stop saying you’re a badman, you know you aren’t
them petty bars will not suffice! the best flip you ever had was…
“i know you are, you said you are, but what am i?”
you clueless, stupid, useless b-st-rd
loving getting goosed in cabbage
there’s no way you can manage
one day without watching human traffic
and saying sh-t like “yo, it’s like they took our lives
and put it in front of movie cameras”
and you could handle the drugs in your heyday
but you look f-cked now, frisko
all that sp-nk and ecstasy has given you comedown syndrome
and you talk about drugs a lot
but this is where the fun’ll stop
cause i’m not talking pills when i say
you two are getting double-dropped
yo, bowski! bowski! when you battled this f-g
and he was like “giggity-goo, for a piggity-poo”
i thought he were taking the p-ss outta you
till i went on youtube, and checked out his tracks
and they sounded like “dibbedy-dibbedy two!”
you tell little girls that your hair color is moulin rouge
and who are you? do you just come out the
woodwork when there’s a two-on-two?
you’re only out the house when you need a
fresh tube of lube or a new spoon to use
and the rest of your time is spent cotching in the dark
concocting sh-tty bars, cause frisko keeps you
locked up in the yard, and once a week
for a lovely treat, he takes you on a
shopping trip to spar for a copy of the star

[round 2: eddie p and frisko]
yo, i’ll boot your mum in the head with steel toe caps
for having nipples like coat-racks and a
cheese-grated f-nny with no flaps
and i’ll use a scalpel to surgically remove your mum’s cl-t off
don’t worry about her nipples, they’ve already been bit off
by two of my mates squatting over her face having a sh-t-off
and yo, lunar, you’re on our vibe, you should come and join the a-team
but matter, you need to snap out of this don’t flop daydream
get yourself back to leeds where you cover your nipples in
spray cream and hang around a [?] f-ckin’ g-y scene
i’ve been leeds, everyone eats tinned peas
the houses are appalling! matter don’t live in a gaffe
he lives in a hole in t’floor covered with a sheet of tarpaulin
lunar, why’re you talkin’? stop it!
i’ve heard you hang around takeaways
with your stiltskin single and your own plastic fork in your pocket
last night, he clocked his mum with a punter in t’walk-in closet
he was like “f-ckin’ h-ll, mum! fix up, man! he’s a really dirty bloke!”
“i know he is, son, but times is hard, and dirty note is dirty note”
his mum’s p-ssy, it really reeks
plus she’s got a peg leg with a wheel that squeaks
[?] dreadlock, if it comes to deadlock
i’ma put your gran in a headlock and force-feed her eggnog
and when matter’s battling, he likes to get all deep and personal
well, here’s something deep and personal:
you’re going bald and that sh-t ain’t reversible
shine that bowling ball, you slap head!
yo, baldy, i don’t know you very well and i probably shouldn’t ask here
but after this, i’d love to rip your head in and wax it
and lunar, i know i don’t know you
but if i knew a bird
is it alright if one of the kids takes that thing out your ear
and just swings off your earlobe?
ain’t my fault you’ve got t-tchy c-cks
and your mum and dads can’t afford the digibox
and i’ve heard that these guys are both infested with chickenpox
and have their [?] l1cking c-cks

[round 2: lunar c and matter]
you p-ssies wearing matching rings as a symbol of abstinence
and say “no hetero” when you mention minges by accident
when you took a vow of celibacy, your mum took a vow to sell her p-ssy
but she don’t get much, cause it’s balding and ginger
there’s mold on her sphincter and her f-nny farts smell like golden virginia
and your mum might be a cougar, fam
but trust, she’s got a gruesome fl-ng-
it stinks like a sewage plan and its
seen more viruses than a broke movie fan’s computer has
and you were on bbc, but not cause of your battles or your rhymes
it’s cause you poured vodka into your pupils for the cameras on that night
they took you to the doctors, you’ve never been more embarr-ssed in your life
said it don’t go in your bloodstream, it just damages your eyes
you stood and looked at the b-tch like that was a surprise!
you couldn’t be more of a spastic if you tried!
there’s no way you’re f-cking with lunar and matter logical
you put liquor shots in your eye? man, that is horrible!
the next time you decide to splash your optical
with a brandy shot or two, i’ll pull a rapid rocket move
and turn that shot gl-ss into a shattered monocle!
and your blindness is the reason your bars are irrelevant
cause you were gobsmacked when, a second ago
you realized that we’re not black men
yo, don’t use your contact lens as a shot gl-ss then
and you need to send thank you letter to
the bbc editor, cause the sh-t that you left out of that
doc-mentary was even sketchier
you two giving each other hennessey enemas on a regular
frisko and edward call theirselves the b-ss invaders
when they’re ripping their sets up
but you f-ggots should just combine your names like jedward
cause you’re fed wood on a regs, bruv
f-ck your whole life, frisko!
on weekdays, you and eddie run a mobile disco
doing weddings for some old white rich folk
performing drum ‘n’ b-ss renditions of old motorola ringtones
f-ck anyone who thinks these f-ggots can beat matter and me
i’ll climb stark b-ll-ck naked up your family tree
and drag my b-lls across the face of every slag that i meet

[round 3: eddie p and frisko]
yo, let’s get it real, these two yorkshire puddings won’t mash up the mix
they’re just a couple of country hicks from out in the sticks
that suck on d-cks for spudnik ticks
me and frisko are pillars of the community
we’re down with the kids
these guys are pedos in the community
they go down on the kids
i saw your mum on the bbc in the riots the other night
it was quite a fright, i won’t lie, i actually felt tight
she was trying to make a flamethrower setting her farts alight
[?]
no, no, don’t let lunar’s mum play you like that
you’re no fool, she insinuated the bradford riots a few years ago
she went down and kicked it old school!
yo matter, prepare to get angry
cause i f-cked every single female member in your family
and lunar, i feel like a really horrible bother
cause at the moment, i’m cheating on your mum with your mum’s mother
what, you’re with lunar’s gran, his mum’s mother?
i’m supposed to be her one and only lover
she’s playing us off each other!
we’ll make the b-tch suffer
you stick her minge in the grill
and you crack her head off t’cooker!
and after that, i’m gonna go to matter’s mum’s and jizz on her boat
then i’ll shove her sh-t in her throat
and right before i leave, i’ll take a p-ss in her coat!
both of youse need to put the child p-rn down
and you need to get over that eye-of-the-storm crown
and lunar, after this, get on some keen b-tches
but first, sort your lobe out, bro, cause it needs st-tches
don’t try and claim you’re rogue with that lobe, i don’t think so
you ain’t blaggin’ me bro, you’re blatantly an emo
hip-hop’s your alter ego
and matter looks like a pedo who’s going through chemo
“yo, it’s real matter, i’m reppin’ real hip-hop, everyone else forgot rap”
stop that!
i’ll strangle you with the elastic from my jockstrap
and get lunar’s mum to give you c-ckslap after c-ckslap
yo, what’s it called?
matter’s goin’ bald!

[round 3: lunar c and matter]
listen, d-ckhead, you live in your nan’s attic and finger her back p-ssage
while this little wack f-ggot is filming it and w-nking
and i reckon both of you two could fit into that chasm
cause sh-t, your nan’s -ssh0l- is as big as the grand canyon
your delivery lacks p-ssion, you’re ginger and that’s tragic
you’re thinking you’re fantastic, you’re tripping, you’ve yammed acid
cause that don’t add up like you’ve skipped all your math cl-sses
this is lyrical sh-t, stick to your bibbidy-bap bapping
my level of brain training method is painstaking
you just make irrelevant g-y statements
get a couple cheap laughs and reckon it’s plain sailing
i saw your last two-on-two, i know your tactics and i can counteract them
you only beat them on crowd reactions cause manny heads hate scouser accents
that’s why you don’t battle unless it’s in your home town
and you’ve brought your own crowd
they’ll ride d-ck when you spit filler for a f-cking whole round
i gave your girl a driving lesson
the gear stick was my erection
we didn’t need no sat nav cause i gave her all the right directions
i gave your girl a spa treatment
inner body m-ssage with a hard p-n-s
cuc-mber slices in her eyes to soothe
her facial mask was my s-m-n
it’s such a treacherous journey through your mother’s
absurdly huge cervix you had to learn to walk
before the b-tch gave birth to you
her v-g-n-l cavity is like wonderland
every week, she f-cks about a hundred man
i was fisting that b-tch the other day and i’m sure somebody shook my hand
and you can find him at raves hugging the speakers
nah, lemme adjust it and tweak it
he’s unplugging the speakers and f-cking the speakers
and speaking of speakers, you’re a guest speaker at cl-sses in schools
like “kids, don’t do drugs, this could happen to you”
yeah! cause you got that blaggard swag
you look like you need a good bath or shower
to be fair, you look like you haven’t touched crack in hours
you jump on tracks and spit in patois like you’re a rastafarian
and you look like avid merrion after a bag of heroin
time

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